Page 36 of Speed Crush

Because the truth is, that kiss?

It didn’t feel like a mistake at all.

It felt like the beginning of everything I've ever wanted and everything I've trained myself to avoid.

It felt like sunrise after years of darkness. It felt like home in the arms of someone who's always leaving.

It scares me—how easily he slips past every defense I’ve built since I was a little girl. How my body recognizes something in him that my mind is still fighting.

And as the firehouse door closes behind me, and the town’s noise embraces me again, I realize— I'm not just walking away from Noah Verelli.

I'm walking away from the only time my heart has ever truly recognized its match.

And I’m not sure I know how to survive its ending.

Chapter 8

Chasing Something Real

Noah

Iwakewiththephantom pressure of her lips still on mine.

My body hard and aching.

Cold shower. Black coffee. Work. That's the only way I'll survive today.

But her words linger, "I want someone who stays when it's not easy.”

It echoes like a challenge I wasn’t ready for.

The irony isn't lost on me. I've spent my career mastering the art of going fast, of leaving everything behind. Now, for the first time, I'm wondering what it would be like to stay.

Argh. I am NOT going to start the day thinking about June Kennedy.

I’ve got work to focus on.

Because right around the time she kissed me like she meant it and then walked away without a word last night, the simulation rig arrived at Mega Max Velocity Park.

Full-motion hydraulic platform. Triple-screen wrap. Custom F1 wheel with dual-clutch paddles. State-of-the-art. Stupid expensive. And exactly what I need to stop thinking about her.

By the time the sun crests over the ridge this morning, the Fagioli crew had assembled and staged it like a throne inside the glass-walled control room.

Which is why I’m here at Mega Max, bright and early. Not to think. Not to feel.

To execute.

And right now? I’m locked in.

Laser-sharp. Or trying to be.

As I calibrate the simulator's steering response, I catch myself wondering what it would take to prove to her I could be that man. That maybe what started as temporary doesn't have to end that way.

Because lately, everything I do here feels different. More grounded.

I used to run simulations to prep for the next race. Now? I run them to stay close—to the town, to this track, to the girl who’s somehow turned one kiss into a full-system override.

It starts as a typical off-season training arrangement. All F1 racers use simulators for muscle memory and reflex training. Dante and I have already agreed to ship one of the team's simulators here so I can stay sharp during the break—daily drills, telemetry sessions, the whole package. But once everything is arranged, something else clicked.

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